


assembly required

by dimsum



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Retail, Crack Treated Seriously, M/M, Misunderstandings, i am asking you to please suspend your disbelief regarding the strength of ikea bed frames
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 18:14:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28871409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dimsum/pseuds/dimsum
Summary: Look, if Soonyoung wants to have back-breaking sex on a regular basis, that’s none of Wonwoo’s business. After this many broken bed frames, though, he’s starting to think Soonyoung should look into investing in something a little sturdier than a 60,000₩ GRIMSBU from IKEA.
Relationships: Jeon Wonwoo/Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi
Comments: 55
Kudos: 258





	assembly required

**Author's Note:**

> ao3 user dimsum’s guide to building an IKEA bed frame:
> 
> 1\. don’t

“Not you again.”

“I’m offended,” says Kwon Soonyoung, loyal IKEA patron and bane of Wonwoo’s existence. “I thought we had something special, Wonwoo.”

Wonwoo pinches the bridge of his nose and counts to ten, wondering if this is the day he’ll finally snap and get fired for inflicting bodily harm onto a customer. “Isn’t there someone else you can bother with this?”

“What are you talking about,” says Soonyoung, flinging an arm over Wonwoo’s shoulders. Wonwoo doesn’t even try to shrug him off at this point, just lets himself be herded back into the showroom. “ _You’re_ my IKEA guy, you know. So let me tell you what I’m looking for today—“

There are three constants in Jeon Wonwoo’s life:

  1. IKEA salesman was not Wonwoo’s first choice job, or second choice, or even third choice. However interest is a bitch and Wonwoo regrets going to university, because every month he dutifully pays off the next installment of his student loans and every month he only seems to accumulate more debt, all for a degree that couldn’t land him a better-paying job than IKEA salesman. University is a scam, kids.
  2. Every few weeks or so, Kwon Soonyoung will break his bed frame and make the trip to IKEA to replace it.
  3. Every time Soonyoung comes to IKEA, he always manages to find Wonwoo. Always.



The last one’s run its course from amusing to a little creepy to just plain unreal. It’s freaky, the way Soonyoung seems to hone in on his location no matter where Wonwoo is in the store. Manning the cash register, roaming the showroom floor, restocking displays in the marketplace—Wonwoo will turn around and Soonyoung will just be _right there_ , all up in Wonwoo’s face with his latest furniture-related inquiry. One time Wonwoo had spent all day in the back room, employees only, and run to the bathroom for a quick pee only for Kwon fucking Soonyoung to come striding out of one of the stalls the second Wonwoo set foot inside. He’d think Soonyoung never even leaves the place, just hops from display to display to spend the night, if it weren’t for the very pressing evidence of his series of broken bed frames.

Wonwoo knows. He’s seen the pictures. All of them.

Soonyoung shows them to him on his cracked-to-hell iPhone 4 screen, and the first and last time Wonwoo asked him why he didn’t just get a new phone, Soonyoung had just said this wasn’t the first phone he’d broken, and actually this one was the least broken out of all of them. And if Wonwoo doesn’t want to know what Soonyoung does to break his beds, he _really_ doesn’t want to know what Soonyoung does to break his phones, so he’d dropped it.

Today, Soonyoung’s showing him his latest demolition on the same phone. The video is barely visible through the cracks, and the audio leaves the phone’s tinny speakers in a distorted screech that kind of sounds like Soonyoung, if you took the mere suggestion of his voice and then layered the sounds of microphone feedback and an airplane taking off on top of it. Wonwoo looks on in veiled interest, eyebrows raising appreciatively at the increased carnage from last time. He didn’t even know you could ruin a bed frame that badly.

“So,” says Soonyoung, slipping his phone back into his pocket. “I think you know what I’m here for. What do you think of the NEIDEN?”

“I don’t think the solution to you continuously breaking your bed frames is to buy a cheaper one.”

“It’s so I can replace it easier if—” _when_ , Wonwoo thinks— “it gets broken again. How rich do you think I am, Wonwoo?”

“Clearly you’re well off enough to make repeat purchases on a regular basis,” says Wonwoo. “Have you considered a mattress box?”

Soonyoung clicks his tongue, waving dismissively. “Those break even faster. I always stub my toe on them anyways.”

“How the f—“ starts Wonwoo, before realizing that he’s still on the job and cutting himself with an awkward cough that leads to him inhaling a cloud of dust. Soonyoung looks on, concerned, as he chokes on air, and gives him a few light smacks on the back. “How do you manage to break a mattress box?” Wonwoo finally wheezes out.

Soonyoung shrugs, making a noncommittal noise. Wonwoo’s spent enough time with him at this point to know when he’s being dodgy, and if he cared he would push. But he doesn’t. He just wants Soonyoung to stop breaking his bed frames so he can stop coming in to bother Wonwoo about replacing them so Wonwoo can stop thinking about what he might be doing to break them in the first place. That’s all.

Wonwoo narrows his eyes at Soonyoung. Soonyoung stares back.

“So, the NEIDEN?”

The first time was innocuous enough. Soonyoung asked him which aisle the TARVA bed frame was in, Wonwoo helped him look it up, and that was that.

The second time Wonwoo got a funny little sense of deja vu, but brushed it off. The third time he started to think something was up.

The seventh time Wonwoo was meandering through the ground floor, made eye contact with Soonyoung from across the room, saw his eyes actually fucking light up in recognition, and took a hard left to the storage closet in the back.

Wonwoo slammed the door shut behind him, wincing at how loudly it rattled on its hinges. Junhui startled awake from where he’d been napping in a broken arm chair, blinking slowly. “Huh?”

Wonwoo stared at him for a solid ten seconds. “Is this where you’ve been the whole day?”

“Not the whole day,” Junhui insisted. “I’m on break.”

“Where were you when I called for someone to help me fix the lighting display this morning, then?”

“On break.”

Wonwoo sighed, dropping down on a nearby ottoman and almost falling over at the unexpected give under his weight. “Never mind then.”

Junhui rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m on break,” Wonwoo parroted back at him.

“No, you’re not,” said Junhui. “Right now it’s…” Junhui picked up a broken clock off the floor that read _6:09 AM_. Wonwoo checked his wristwatch. It was 3:30 PM. “3:30, and your break doesn’t start until 4.”

Wonwoo stared at him and then blinked twenty times, too disgruntled to feel as shocked as he probably should have. “How do you even know that?”

“I have a good memory,” said Junhui, which was extremely bold coming from the guy who forgot he had a shift last Saturday and then texted Wonwoo at five in the morning asking him to cover for him. Wonwoo still hasn’t forgotten. He missed out on very exciting plans that day (staying in, ordering takeout, and criticizing his mother’s newest favorite historical drama for inaccuracies) so Junhui could drag his boyfriend to the animal shelter and pick out the most mangy, unsightly cat to exist on the face of the planet. The pictures of the cat that Junhui promised to send him in recompense weren’t even of the cat, they were blurry selfies composed of 90% Junhui and 10% random tufts of fur that were presumably from the cat.

(“Xiaoba,” Junhui corrected him. “That’s her name.”

“She’s the ugliest cat I’ve ever seen in my life,” said Wonwoo, “and you gave her a cutesy name like that?”

“You love her,” Junhui declared.

Wonwoo looked down at where he had Xiaoba on his lap and was stroking her gently behind the ears, chest warming when she purred happily. Yeah, he kinda did.)

“Why are you really here?”

Wonwoo sighed again. “Soonyoung’s here again.”

“Who?”

“Soonyoung? Kwon Soonyoung? The guy I’ve been complaining about for months?”

Junhui tilted his head, blinking in confusion.

Wonwoo sighed, for the nth time. “Bed Frame Boy?”

“Oh, Bed Frame Boy!” said Junhui, snapping his fingers. “Again? Isn’t this like the fourth time now?”

“Seventh.”

Junhui whistled. “Damn. I wonder what he does to break his bed frames all the time.”

Wonwoo stiffened. “I have no idea.”

Junhui’s mouth curled into a smirk, something vaguely predatory overtaking his expression. _Fuck._ Unfortunately, there was no ‘go back’ button to revert a nosy Junhui back into a sleepy Junhui. “Are you sure about that? Are you sure?”

“I have no idea what Bed Frame Boy could be doing to break his beds,” Wonwoo said stubbornly.

“You have no idea,” said Junhui, “what kind of _fun_ he could be having on his bed, what kind of _activities_ could be occurring on his bed—”

“Please stop.”

“You’ve never even given a thought to what kind of _natural human rituals_ he could be performing _on his bed_ —”

“I’m leaving,” Wonwoo announced loudly, and because he was feeling vindictive, “And if I see Jeonghan, I’m telling him where you are.”

“Hey, wait—”

Wonwoo stepped out of the storage closet, clicking the door shut behind him. Well, going in there was a mistake.

“Hey Wonwoo—”

No matter what anyone tells you, Wonwoo did not scream. Maybe he jumped a little, as is natural of anyone who’s just been surprised, but he did _not_ scream.

Soonyoung flinched, dropping the box he’d been carrying directly onto Wonwoo’s foot. “Fuck,” Wonwoo wheezed, hunched over in pain.

“Oh shit, sorry,” said Soonyoung. “I just wanted to ask if you’d help me load boxes onto my cart. I’m not very good at carrying them by myself.”

“Fuck,” Wonwoo whispered again. Coming out of that closet was a mistake, too.

“Thanks, Wonwoo, you’re a lifesaver,” says Soonyoung, as Wonwoo helps him load his new bed frame into his car. He had indeed gone with the NEIDEN against Wonwoo’s recommendation. Wonwoo has a bad feeling he’ll be seeing him again soon.

“You always say that,” says Wonwoo, shaking his head, “but you keep coming back.”

“Only to spice your life up,” says Soonyoung. “What would it be like without me, Wonwoo? Boring as hell.”

He’s probably right. Wonwoo’s not about to admit that, though. “Very peaceful.”

Soonyoung snorts. “You love me and you know it.”

Wonwoo watches him peel out of the parking lot, almost hitting two cars, three pedestrians, and a shopping cart on his way out, and something like a laugh escapes him. He’s horrified to discover that the sound is almost fond.

See, the thing about this whole situation is that it all boils down to a few other constants in Wonwoo’s life:

  1. Wonwoo is going through a dry spell. Wonwoo is on a zen path. Wonwoo is experiencing a drought and there is no water in sight. Whatever the case or the euphemism, Wonwoo has not bumped uglies, danced the horizontal tango, or known anyone biblically in quite some time.
  2. Soonyoung is, objectively, quite attractive.



So Wonwoo really does not want to know what kind of _activities_ Soonyoung may be doing in his free time that lead to broken bed frames, because knowledge leads to visualization but visualization does not always lead to actualization and will probably not in this case. Not that he wants to sleep with Soonyoung. It’s just a thought.

After all it would be pretty lame to have ‘hooked up after meeting at IKEA’ as a getting together story. That’s not the kind of thing he wants to tell their future kids when they ask someday.

And now he’s getting ahead of himself.

So Wonwoo pointedly does not think about it, no matter what Junhui says, and locks it away into a separate part of his brain, to be dealt with never. The thing is the lock is not very secure, and it gets very difficult to keep the beast locked inside sometimes. Case in point:

Soonyoung shows up ten days later (not that Wonwoo’s counting) with the same bright, shameless expression on his face, except this time he’s wearing a three-piece suit that’s now partially undone and almost completely soaked through.

Wonwoo casts a quick glance outside. The rain is coming down in sheets, clouds rumbling in the distance. Someone up there really has it out for him.

“New record,” says Wonwoo. “I think this is the fastest you’ve ever broken a bed frame. I told you the NEIDEN was a bad idea.”

Soonyoung laughs. Wonwoo tries his best to focus on his face instead of the hand he’s running through his wet hair, but his gaze accidentally dips a bit too low and ends up glued to the now translucent fabric of Soonyoung’s white shirt as it clings to his chest. _Fuck._ “It was faster than I expected, yeah. I don’t even have footage this time, I just rushed here straight after a meeting.”

“I can see that,” Wonwoo says intelligently. Soonyoung just laughs again, loosening another button on his waistcoat, and Wonwoo’s brain short-circuits.

“Formal clothing is so stuffy,” Soonyoung complains, undoing the top button of his shirt too. God is trying to kill Wonwoo, actually. “Of all the days to get caught in the rain, too.”

Wonwoo has already resigned himself to an afternoon of slow psychological torture—not only is Soonyoung dressed to the nines _and_ dripping wet, Wonwoo’s supposed to help him find a new bed frame after breaking the last one doing whatever it is one does to break a bed. Whoever’s up there decides to finally take mercy on him, though, and salvation comes in the form of one Wen Junhui.

“Sorry to interrupt you two lovebirds,” says Junhui, sticking his head in between them and not looking sorry in the slightest, “but Big Boss Man’s looking for you.”

“Which one?” asks Wonwoo, even though he already knows.

“Which one do you think?”

Wonwoo shrugs. “Perfect timing.” He grips Junhui by the shoulders and shoves him in front of Soonyoung, whose face is a mix of bewildered and amused. “This is Soonyoung. Soonyoung, this is Junhui. He can help you find your bed frame today.”

“What?” whines Junhui, which is probably not a good look for him in front of a customer. But Soonyoung’s no normal customer anyways—at least it’s him, and not some fussy ahjumma.

“Yep,” says Wonwoo, trying not to pay too much attention to how disappointed Soonyoung looks. “Gotta run.”

“Junnie said you asked for me?” says Wonwoo, knocking the back of his hand against the door of Jeonghan’s office.

“Ah, yes,” says Jeonghan, swiveling around in his chair with his legs crossed and his hands linked together. Wonwoo would bet anything he’d been holding that position waiting for him to come in. “Come in, Wonwoo-yah, have a seat.”

Wonwoo sits. “Did you need something?”

“Yes,” says Jeonghan, gravely. “It’s of the utmost importance.”

Wonwoo waits.

“Aren’t you going to ask what it is?”

“You’re going to tell me eventually, aren’t you?”

Jeonghan scowls, uncrossing and re-crossing his legs in a huff. “You’re so mean to me. I’d fire you if you weren’t the only one around here who did any work.”

“That’s against labor laws,” Wonwoo points out helpfully.

Jeonghan waves him off. “If I really wanted to, I’d find a way.”

Wonwoo doesn’t doubt him. “What’s so important, then?”

Jeonghan sighs, eyes fluttering shut with extra melancholy. “Shua stopped responding to my texts.”

Wonwoo sends up a silent prayer to the heavens for Joshua Hong. “And this involves me how?”

“I’m bored,” whines Jeonghan, “and I have no one to talk to now. Keep your favorite manager company, won’t you?”

“I have no favorite manager, but if I did it wouldn’t be you.”

Jeonghan opens one eye, pupil dilating like a cat’s. Wonwoo watches him cagily, suddenly on guard. “I’ll humor you even though that’s clearly a lie. Okay, you have no favorite manager. Favorite customer, on the other hand—”

There’s a pulse starting to make itself known in Wonwoo’s temples. “Oh, I think I just heard Jun call for me, I better go see what he wants.”

“There’s no company policy against playing favorites with customers,” says Jeonghan, as Wonwoo stands up and pushes the chair back in because he still has manners, unlike some people. “But I’d advise against it unless you’re planning to act on it.”

Wonwoo pauses. “Act on it how?”

Jeonghan sets his elbows on the desk, resting his chin on top of where his hands are steepled together. “Well, haven’t you ever wondered what exactly he _does_ to break all those beds—”

Wonwoo slams the door shut on his way out, but it’s not loud enough to drown out Jeonghan’s cackling from inside.

“How was it?” Wonwoo asks Junhui. They’re standing off to the side, watching as Chan rings up Soonyoung for the crisp new box sitting in his cart. “Do you understand my pain now?”

“Actually, he was really quiet,” says Junhui. “Kinda shy. He just looked around for a bit before asking me to help him load his boxes onto his cart, so I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Wait, really?” asks Wonwoo. “He didn’t ask you a billion questions? Drag you all over the place? Drop boxes on your feet?”

“None of that,” says Junhui, shrugging. “Maybe you’re just special, Wonwoo.”

Or maybe Soonyoung just has it out for him. Wonwoo huffs, looking away and inadvertently making eye contact with Soonyoung. Soonyoung lights up when he sees him, jumping up and down and waving his arms around.

“You call that shy?” Wonwoo scoffs.

“Aw, I think you’re just his IKEA guy,” says Junhui, hip-checking him. “Aren’t you gonna wave back?”

Soonyoung doesn’t seem fazed by Wonwoo’s lack of response, giving him one last wave before wheeling his cart to the entrance. It’s still pouring buckets outside, rain tapping out an angry drum onto the awning. Wonwoo curses.

“Soonyoung, wait,” he calls out, grabbing one of the staff umbrellas and jogging through the checkout aisles to catch up to him. “Let me walk you to your car.”

Soonyoung hesitates, and it’s so unlike him that Wonwoo almost misses what he says next. “Ah, it’s okay, Wonwoo-yah. I can just run really fast, I’ll be fine.”

“You’ll get sick,” says Wonwoo.

“What about you?” says Soonyoung, casting a dubious glance at his short-sleeved polo.

“I’ll be okay, I’m still dry,” says Wonwoo. “You, on the other hand.” He picks at the shoulder of Soonyoung’s shirt. “You’ve been wearing wet clothes for an hour now, and they’ve barely started to dry.”

Soonyoung blinks at the motion, lips parting slightly before curving back into a cheeky smile. “I knew you loved me,” he declares, pushing his cart out before Wonwoo can even get the umbrella open. “Let’s go, then.”

Wonwoo stumbles after him, getting the umbrella over their heads right before Soonyoung can step out from under the awning. It’s pouring buckets outside, rain collecting into little divots in the ground and splashing onto Wonwoo’s shoes with every roll of the cart’s wheels, but strangely he doesn’t mind all that much. The umbrella is a small one, forcing them to walk so closely together to keep them both covered that their shoulders press against each other.

Soonyoung’s skin is warm against his, even through his soaked shirt. Wonwoo can’t help but hone in on the spot where they touch during the entire walk all the way to the far end of the parking lot where Soonyoung’s car is. Soonyoung’s always been overly familiar with him, but this feels different, somehow. More intimate.

“Get home safe, alright?” says Wonwoo, once the bed frame is safely stowed away in Soonyoung’s car.

“I will. Thank you, Wonwoo,” says Soonyoung, eyes curving into little crescents when he smiles. Wonwoo’s struck dumb for a second, mind whirring to process this information. _Error 500, internal server error._

The only conclusion his brain manages to spit out is that somehow, he’s developed a grudging affection for what may not be his least favorite customer after all. How terrible, he thinks, unable to keep the smile off his face as he waves Soonyoung off before running back to safety.

“Back already?” asks Wonwoo, aghast. “Soonyoung, it’s been three days.”

The customer service desk is one of Wonwoo’s least favorite shifts to work, and he’d already braced himself for a terrible day. For once he can’t say he’s not happy to see Soonyoung, if only to break up the mundanity and frustration of trying to tell people they can’t return furniture they bought and ruined five years ago, especially if they don’t have a receipt, but also _what the hell is he doing here?_

“Hey, I haven’t broken it yet,” Soonyoung says, indignant, and Wonwoo breathes an internal sigh of relief. “I haven’t even built it yet, actually.”

“Why not?” asks Wonwoo. “Where have you been sleeping?”

“On the floor!” says Soonyoung, beaming.

Wonwoo stares at him in amazement. “You’re hopeless. What’s the problem?”

“I’m actually having problems assembling it,” says Soonyoung, scratching the back of his neck, “but all of my friends have given up on helping me build furniture now.” Wonwoo snorts. “Hey! Anyways, I was just gonna get one of those TaskRabbit guys to come help me.”

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow. “You’ll have to wait a while for an appointment. Where are you gonna sleep in the meantime?”

“I’ll be fine on the floor,” Soonyoung says dismissively. “It’ll just be a few more days, right?”

Wonwoo checks their availability. Actually, it’ll probably be longer than ‘just a few days’—a week, at the very least. He makes a split-second decision. “Don’t bother with TaskRabbit. I can help you with it.”

“Oh, is that part of your job too?” Soonyoung asks innocently.

“No, thank God,” says Wonwoo, grimacing. “But I’ve gotten pretty good at assembling things from here.”

Silence. Wonwoo clicks out of the tab and looks up.

“Are you saying you’d help me out of the goodness of your own heart?” asks Soonyoung, eyes shining like a fucking anime character. “You really do love me.”

Wonwoo backtracks. “I’m just saving myself the trouble later on,” he insists, even as Soonyoung continues to grin stupidly at him. “Maybe if I make sure this bed is built properly, it won’t break as quickly. For all I know, your poor construction skills are the reason you keep having to buy new bed frames.” Man, he really hopes that’s the case, if only for his own sanity.

Soonyoung gives him an over-exaggerated wink. “ _Sure_ , Wonwoo. You just want me out of your hair.”

“Yes,” Wonwoo stresses.

“You can’t stand me to the point where you’d come over to my place to help me build a bed frame.”

“ _Yes_.”

Soonyoung’s smile grows even wider, and even Wonwoo has to admit that this is starting to sound a little ridiculous. “Let me just give you my number, so you can text me your address,” he says, to change the topic, and holds a hand out for Soonyoung’s phone. “Is 6 okay?”

“Fine with me,” Soonyoung chirps. Wonwoo jabs his finger at Soonyoung’s cracked phone screen, trying and failing to get it to register the touch so he can just put his goddamn phone number in, holy shit. The longer he holds this phone, the more he worries he’s going to get electrocuted. “It’s a date!”

“It is _not_ ,” says Wonwoo, handing the phone back. “Soonyoung—”

But Soonyoung’s already running off, waving at Wonwoo as he goes. “Bye, Wonwoo! See you at 6!”

He yells it loud enough to catch the attention of a few other customers as they pass by. Wonwoo hides behind the desktop, trying to look busy. When he sees Junhui sidling over, he wonders if it isn’t too late to quit this job.

“Did I hear that correctly?” says Junhui, grinning. “Do you have a date with Bed Frame Boy?”

“It’s not a date,” says Wonwoo, trying to sound neutral even as Junhui raises an eyebrow in disbelief. “I just offered to help him assemble his bed frame.”

Junhui nods sagely. “So _you_ can be the one to help him break it afterwards.”

“I hope you get fired,” Wonwoo says uselessly. The vitriol bounces straight off of Junhui as he laughs, wiggles his eyebrows, and walks away.

“Uh, is Soonyoung here?”

Wonwoo had arrived at the address Soonyoung texted him, was let into the lobby of the building by someone who’d happened to be going out at the same time, and knocked on the door of unit 1010 only to be met with someone who was clearly not Soonyoung. For one, he’s at least ten centimeters shorter, and for two, Soonyoung doesn’t usually look this grumpy.

The guy squints at him. “What, did he order something?”

Wonwoo looks down at the IKEA polo he hadn’t had a chance to change out of before rushing here straight after work. “Uh… no. I’m here to help him assemble furniture.”

“Oh, good,” the guy says, taking a sip of the dark liquid in his mug (is he drinking coffee? At 6 in the evening?). “He’s absolutely terrible at doing it by himself. Been sleeping on the floor for days, and then he comes to _me_ to complain about how fucked up his back is.”

“I’m sorry,” Wonwoo says politely.

The guy snorts. “Well, you’re about to be sorrier. I’ll go get him for you.”

He shuffles away in a pair of worn slippers, leaving the door slightly ajar. Wonwoo can’t help but look through the open crack, taking in what he can see of Soonyoung’s apartment. It’s a charming little place, a tight but doable fit for two. Although Wonwoo’s not quite sure why Soonyoung keeps buying twin beds if he has… someone who lives with him. Yes.

He can only hear faint murmuring, none of the words particularly intelligible, before steps come pounding louder against the floor. “Wonwoo, you’re here!” says Soonyoung, pulling the door all the way open. “Come in, come in.”

“You know the IKEA guy’s name?” says the other guy, expression somewhere between puzzled and amused as Wonwoo toes his shoes off and accepts the pair of slippers Soonyoung offers to him.

“This isn’t just any IKEA guy, it’s _my_ IKEA guy,” Soonyoung says proudly. “Jihoon, meet Wonwoo. Wonwoo, meet Jihoon.”

Jihoon’s face lights up in recognition. “Oh, so _this_ is the IKEA guy you always talk about. I _see_.”

Soonyoung flushes. “I don’t talk about him that much!” he insists. “Anyways, I’m gonna go tidy up my room real quickly before we get started. Jihoon, can you entertain Wonwoo for a bit? And _don’t_ make up embarrassing lies about me!”

“I don’t need to make them up if they’re all true,” Jihoon calls after him. Soonyoung sticks his tongue out before running off, slamming the door shut behind him.

An awkward silence fills the space. Wonwoo tries not to fidget awkwardly. Jihoon doesn’t really seem like the kind of guy to be good at entertaining guests, but Wonwoo isn’t really a conventional type of guest anyways. “Nice place you got here.”

“Oh, I don’t live here,” says Jihoon, polishing off the rest of whatever’s in his mug and pouring himself a refill from a suspiciously unlabeled bottle out of the fridge. “I was his roommate in university, and never again. He lives alone now.”

That doesn’t seem like something a boyfr—uh, someone who regularly engages with Soonyoung in whatever action would result in broken beds would say. “Have you been together for long?”

Jihoon gives him a look. “I’ve known him for too long. I told him I wasn’t gonna help him build any more bed frames, so thanks for helping him out.” He sets down his mug to look more closely at Wonwoo, gaze heavy with scrutiny. “Actually, it’s interesting that he warmed up so quickly to you. He doesn’t usually do that with people, especially not random employees at furniture stores.”

Huh. Wonwoo thinks back to what Junhui said the other day. “I guess I’m just special, then.”

Jihoon chugs down the rest of the contents of his mug. Wonwoo’s seriously starting to worry about his digestive system. “That you might be.”

Before Wonwoo can really mull it over, though, Soonyoung rushes back into the room. “I’m back!” he announces, turning to look at Wonwoo. “Jihoon didn’t tell you anything embarrassing, did he?”

“I was just telling him about that time in high school,” says Jihoon. “You know, with the balloons and the superglue.”

“You didn’t,” Soonyoung gasps, covering Wonwoo’s ears with his hands. Now is the wrong time to suddenly become conscious of how close they’re standing, Soonyoung’s body radiating heat. “I won’t stand for any more of this slander.”

“Neither will I.” Jihoon sets his mug down on the counter. “If this is _the_ IKEA guy,” he says, making a vague gesture at them that Wonwoo doesn’t really know how to interpret, “then I really don’t wanna be around for whatever’s gonna happen next.”

“At least put your mug in the sink before you go, jerk,” Soonyoung yells, as Jihoon takes his leave. Wonwoo’s starting to develop a headache—being in this conversation is like trying to put a puzzle together except half the pieces are missing and the board is on fire.

Soonyoung sighs, before turning to Wonwoo and smiling again. “Let’s get started?”

The instructions say to allow for a good two hours to finish assembly. Five hours later, Wonwoo’s on his hands and knees looking for a bolt that they’d somehow managed to lose and his stomach hurts from how empty it is.

“What happened to being good at assembling things, Mr. Loyal IKEA Employee?” asks Soonyoung, standing on his tippy toes to unscrew the headboard from where they’d attached it backwards.

“Don’t call me that,” Wonwoo mumbles, sweeping a hand out blindly like a dowsing rod. It touches plastic wrappers, old socks, and a suspiciously crumpled tissue, but no bolt.

“What do I call you then?”

“I don’t know, anything but that,” says Wonwoo. He doesn’t want to be reminded of work right now, not when he’s technically overstepped typical customer-employee boundaries by, what? Inviting himself over to help a customer when he’s off the job?

But he has to admit that Soonyoung isn’t really a normal customer at this point. Wonwoo sits back on his heels and watches Soonyoung’s tongue peek out of the corner of his mouth as he tries to screw the sideboards on.

“Did you find it yet?” asks Soonyoung, looking up suddenly. Wonwoo startles.

“No, not yet,” he says, quickly looking away.

“Well,” says Wonwoo, stepping back to survey their work, two hours later at the ripe old time of one in the morning. “It’s… done?”

Wonwoo’s not sure what the bed frame’s supposed to look like, but he’s pretty sure it’s not anywhere close to catalog-worthy. Apparently he didn’t pay very much attention to the assembly part of IKEA training. With the rate Soonyoung’s been going through bed frames at, he doubts this is going to last past two weeks.

Soonyoung looks happy though, beaming at him through messed-up hair from all the sweat. Man, how does someone manage to still look pretty even drenched in sweat? Wonwoo’s got to get out of here before he does anything stupid. “Thanks, Wonwoo!” he says, bouncing on the mattress. Wonwoo winces at how low it sinks under Soonyoung’s weight, cheap metal bolts wailing from the strain. Two weeks might be generous. “This one’s way sturdier than the others, since you helped me with it!”

That’s not really saying much. Wonwoo thinks Jihoon might disagree with him on the relative soundness of the bed frame, and then immediately regrets it. He really doesn’t want to think about Jihoon in relation to Soonyoung, or to… bed frames.

Oh, but it’s too late. His mother probably should’ve taken the doctor up on his advice when he’d said Wonwoo had an overactive imagination as a child, because it’s really biting him in the ass now.

“Soonyoung-ah,” Wonwoo blurts out, before he can stop himself, and then freezes. How the fuck is he supposed to word this without sounding like a creep? “You and Jihoon… You said he doesn’t live here, right?”

“Yep,” says Soonyoung, suddenly looking at Wonwoo very intently. “He’s sworn off rooming with me ever since we graduated from uni. I live alone, so you don’t have to worry.”

Wonwoo blanks—what the fuck is that supposed to mean? “Don’t you two ever hang out at his place?” he tries.

“Sometimes, yeah,” says Soonyoung, and now he looks confused. Well, that’s about how Wonwoo’s feeling right now. “Uh, I hate to ask this, Wonwoo, but are you planning to rob my place?”

“Wh— no,” says Wonwoo, firmly and also a bit too loudly. This was a terrible idea. “That was not my intention when I came over to help you.”

“Why are you asking me about Jihoon then?” asks Soonyoung. “Are you interested in him?”

Far from it, actually. “No, I just—” Wonwoo inhales, sharply. Wow. This is turning out to be a lot harder than he thought it would be. “Jihoon seems like the kind of guy to spend money on a quality bed frame. Maybe it would be better if the two of you spent more time at his place, so you don’t have to replace your bed frame as often.”

Soonyoung stares at him. “Wonwoo, I think you’re implying something but I’m not getting what it is, so I’m gonna need you to come out and say it for me.”

_Fuck my life—_ “Well,” Wonwoo clears his throat, “isn’t it more, uh, fun to sleep with someone when you don’t have to worry about the bed breaking?”

Silence. This was a bad, bad idea, he should leave _right now_ — “You think I’m fucking Jihoon?” says Soonyoung, incredulous.

Wonwoo chokes. “Are you not?”

“Hell no,” says Soonyoung, bursting into laughter like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard. Now might be the time for Wonwoo to move to Iceland. “We’ve known each other since we were kids, he’s like my brother. I think he’d rather cut off his own leg than sleep with me. What gave you that impression?”

Wonwoo splutters. “Why else would you keep breaking your bed frames so often?”

“Not from fucking Jihoon, that’s for sure,” Soonyoung snorts. “Although the actual reason might be a bit more embarrassing.”

“What’s more embarrassing than me assuming you were fucking your childhood friend,” Wonwoo says flatly.

“Well, I dance?” Soonyoung says, like that isn’t a groundbreaking revelation for Wonwoo. _So that’s why his thighs are so— not now, Jeon Wonwoo, holy shit—_ “We do a lot of tumbling, you know, backflips and stuff. Here, I can show you—”

And he scrambles up into a standing position, gingerly bouncing on the balls of his feet before getting ready to fucking hurl himself backwards. Wonwoo’s brain goes into fight or flight mode; he grabs Soonyoung by the waist before he can break his newest bed frame for the nth time or worse, split his skull open. How has he not _died_ yet? “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Soonyoung swallows, tongue flicking out to wet his lips, and only then does Wonwoo realize the position he currently has his hands in. He moves to let go, but before he can— “You know, I’ve never broken a bed from having sex before,” Soonyoung says, slowly, “but that doesn’t mean I’m not open to trying. Might be an interesting experience to have.”

_Oh my god._ Wonwoo’s dreaming. Is he dreaming? He should pinch himself, except that would mean lifting his hands off Soonyoung’s waist— it’s one in the morning and he hasn’t even had dinner yet— “In this shirt?” he says weakly, looking down at his bright yellow IKEA polo in mild despair.

Soonyoung looks meaningfully at the collar of Wonwoo’s shirt, where he’d popped a few buttons earlier to cool down. “All the more reason to get it off you, right?”

Well. If that isn’t a proposition. Wonwoo thinks about it and then decides he should probably stop thinking. It’s not like thinking has ever gone well for him.

Wonwoo lets go, and then, slowly starts unbuttoning the rest of his shirt, eyes flitting back up to watch Soonyoung watch him. He supposes now’s as good of a time to test the construction quality of this bed as ever. Their future kids will just have to deal with a shitty ‘How I Met Your Father’ story.

**Author's Note:**

> please don't look at me

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [actual product may differ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29477535) by Anonymous 




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